


Don't Call Me Love

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Fluff, Gen, Humor, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take to Cassidy and Tulip's meeting.<br/>***<br/>Finally, the front door opened, revealing a woman smiling with satisfaction and twirling a lock pick between her fingers before pocketing it. She strolled into the preacher's home, only to freeze at the sight of Cassidy, still sitting with his feet propped up on the dinner table.<br/>After staring at each other for a few moments, the woman wrinkled her nose. “Who the hell are you?” she asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Me Love

**Author's Note:**

> I’m officially obsessed with this show tbh. This was written before I watched the episode where Tulip and Cassidy actually meet, and it's set during the first episode after Jesse faints.

Finding the preacher sprawled out on the floor in front of the altar had definitely been a surprise. Cassidy had gone down there after being let out of the jail, carrying a bottle of whiskey in the hopes of coercing Jesse into a round of drinking and prying into the man’s life.

It had been a struggle to drag the preacher’s limp body to his room ( _lordy_ , since when were preachers made out of pure muscle?), and then Cassidy had puttered around a bit uselessly, waiting for the man to wake up and for his fever to go down. The vampire had been quick to get antsy as he sat by the unconscious preacher’s bedside with nothing to do, and was saved by the doorbell ringing.

The woman who was on the other side of the door with a car full of loud and obnoxious children was annoying, but a godsend. And by annoying, Cassidy meant she was _responsible_ and _careful_ and _blunt_. She immediately swooped in and took over taking care of Jesse when she heard he was sick, asking a dozen of questions about what had happened before dismissing Cassidy.

He’d been more than relieved to be free of preacher-duty, and had prowled around the church grounds for something useful to do to keep Emily from kicking him completely out of the house. He’d returned victoriously an hour later and announced that he’d be fixing the air conditioning. She didn’t look particularly convinced, but didn’t stop him.

(But the drawback was that he had to watch her hellspawned children as Emily mothered the preacher. Spending time with them was definitely a test of his patience: all of them enjoyed staring and gaping at him as he swore and fought with the air conditioning, loudly asking questions about him and tittering at his accent.)

Emily had gone home with her children for dinner, and Cassidy was sitting in the kitchen, leaning back in the chair and drinking a lukewarm beer as he flipped through some trash magazine that he’d unearthed from the church.

He immediately stopped, though, when his keen ears heard the quiet rattling of the doorknob. He looked up from his magazine, frowning at the door but making no move to get up. It could be more vampire hunters, true, but they tended to go more to the route involving crashing through windows.

Finally, the door opened, revealing a woman smiling with satisfaction and twirling her lock pick between her fingers before pocketing it. She strolled into the preacher’s home, only to freeze at the sight of Cassidy, still sitting with his feet propped up on the table.

After staring at each other for a few moments, the woman wrinkled her nose. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, Texan drawl as pronounced as the rest of the people in bloody Annville.

“I think I should be askin’ _you_ that, missy,” Cassidy exclaimed. “I ain't the one breakin’ into a preacher’s home, now am I, hm?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, cocking a hip to the side. “Where’s Jesse?” she asked, ignoring his question. “He hasn't been answering my calls.”

“Well, one generally has to be conscious to answer calls,” he said sourly, finally setting the magazine down and making a move to stand up. “He’s lyin’ in bed, sick. Has been for the past coupla days.”

He saw something akin to worry flash over the woman’s eyes and she made a beeline for the back, heading towards the bedroom.

“Now, just wait a second,” he spluttered after her, jumping from his seat. “You can’t come burstin’ into a man’s home an’ goin’ wherever ya please.”

“I think you’ll find that I can,” she said from behind gritted teeth. “I don’t trust that slippery bastard to not just be lyin’ so he can skip town again.”

Cassidy saw the way her fingers were twitching and finally noticed the gun pushed into the waistband of her jeans. While it wouldn’t be able to do much damage against him, it’d be a nuisance, and leave bullet holes in the wall that the preacher and Emily would question.

“Alright, alright, take a deep breath, love,” he exclaimed, holding up his hands.

“Don’t call me love, you--” she trailed off when she stood in the doorway of Jesse’s bedroom. “Huh. Whaddaya know.”

“I wasn’t talkin’ shit out of my arse, lady,” he snapped at her, huffing. “Y’know, you should really start learnin’ to trust some people.”

“Oh, hop off your mighty horse,” she snorted, striding into the room. She pressed the back of her hand to Jesse’s forehead, muttering something under her breath about him feeling warm. He couldn't see her face, but her body language had seemed to relax, her shoulders drooping.

Cassidy clapped his hands together in quick succession, startling her. “Well, now you see ‘e’s alive, breathin’, an' jus’ a li’l sick,” Cassidy said. “Now, kindly fuck off.”

“I’ll leave in my own time,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She casually made to grab the gun in her waistband, and Cassidy reacted on instinct, his gut twisting in sudden fear. She had seemed like she'd calmed down, but she seemed like something of a loose cannon, and the vampire wouldn't let his mistake of trusting her cause the preacher his life. He was moved inhumanly fast to stand next to her and grab ahold of her wrist. She gasped, yanking away from him and standing up off the bed. 

“I’d keep your hands to yourself, love,” he said, voice carrying more than a note of warning and danger.

He prepared for a fight when he saw the woman’s eyes flash, but he still managed to be taken aback by the shockingly strong fist to his cheek. He stumbled back before losing his balance and finding himself sprawled on his back, staring dazedly up at the ceiling.

“Keep your own hands to yourself,” he heard her voice drift through his ears, muffled and almost watery through the blood pumping through his ears. “And _don’t_ call me love.”

He blinked dumbly at the ceiling as she stormed out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

***

The next time Cassidy saw the woman was during one of the _worst_ opening hymns to a church service that he’d ever heard. He couldn’t tell if it was an elaborate scheme done by the girl to punish her parents for bringing her there, or if she was honest to God attempting to serenade the congregation with her best. Judging from the preacher and Emily's expressions, they didn't know, either.

He groaned quietly to himself, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling of the church. He had lost track of time and gotten stuck in the church at sunrise, and he’d been forced by Emily to give up his whiskey bottle when churchgoers had started filtering in. Who knew he’d find his own personal hell in a church?

Cassidy heard the doors quietly creak open and a late churchgoer sneak in. His gaze absently skimmed over her, not paying much mind until the familiar features and walk clicked in his head. He sat up, staring in disbelief at the woman who was sitting a pew ahead of him.

She didn’t seem to have noticed him as she got comfortable in her seat, keeping her arms crossed over her chest and one leg thrown over the other, toe tapping absently. Her eyes stayed glued on the preacher, her gaze only briefly flitting over to him before looking back.

“Late to mass? You heathen,” he teased her in a whisper.

She smirked, seemingly unsurprised at his presence. “I’m not the one who was sleepin’ off his hangover in the back,” she said sweetly.

He made a sound of agreement, shrugging. “Aye, you’re in good company,” Cassidy said. He held out his hand. “Proinsias Cassidy. I’m livin’ with the good Padre at the moment.”

“Tulip O’Hare,” she responded, leaning back and shaking his hand. Her dimpled smile and shiny eyes were so innocent and sweet that Cassidy didn’t trust her for a moment. “An old friend of Jesse’s.”

“Ooo, an old friend,” he exclaimed, dropping his voice lower when the man in front of them whipped around and sent them a reproving glare. “I didn’t know ‘e had any friends in this shite town, the way ‘e goes ‘round punchin’ people an’ breakin’ arms.”

“He doesn’t,” she said shortly, turning back to face the front.

“I gather there’s some hostility there, eh?” he asked.

Tulip smiled with too many teeth, resting her chin on her hand and resting her elbow on her knee. “You could say that,” she drawled in her Texan accent. “Me an’ Jesse go way, _way_ back.”

“Oh, do tell,” he grinned widely, leaning closer and looking at her over his sunglasses. “I’d love to hear some dirt on the good ol’ Padre. I bet you have some stories, dont’cha?”

“We’re in church,” she chided him, but there was still a much more amused smirk now curling her lips. “Here’s not the place.”

“Well, what about somewhere else, eh?” he asked, voice dropping to a purr.

She leaned back again, draping her arms over the pew. Up at the pulpit, Jesse was wrapping up his speech, eyes filled with a solemn determination.

“I think I’ll pass, stranger,” she said with a chuckle. “Smooth delivery, though, I’ll give you that.”

“I most certainly try my best, darling,” he chuckled.

“Don’t call me that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Comments and kudos are much appreciated! If you have any prompts/questions/wanna chat, send me an ask: continuitygains.tumblr.com


End file.
